That laughter was terrifying — sharp and ear-splitting. Not only did Shen Mo’s expression change drastically, but the three people inside also went pale all at once.

In that moment, the same thought surfaced simultaneously in all four minds:

Was the reason every household in the village sealed its doors and windows the moment night fell — because the villagers knew the Bone-Hauling Woman would not spare them?

In an instant, the old woman came screaming and lunging closer.

Shen Mo drew his long blade and slashed without hesitation.

The blow cut through empty air entirely.

The old woman’s body seemed insubstantial — when the blade came down, it was like slicing through a puff of smoke. Not a scratch.

Shen Mo was stunned for half a second. The old woman was already lunging at him; there was no time to think. He twisted aside to dodge.

The old woman’s movements were extraordinarily agile — she pursued Shen Mo relentlessly, her raised hands sharp and terrible as an eagle’s talons. In an instant, she raked three long scratch marks across Shen Mo’s back.

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

She laughed in wild frenzy, hair flying loose as she chased Shen Mo, eyes wide open, upper and lower jaw gaping wide.

The piercing laughter nearly punctured the eardrums.

Shen Mo was hard-pressed, forced to keep retreating.

— He couldn’t hurt the old woman, but she could hurt him. This fight was profoundly unfair.

Catching a glimpse of the cart standing by the courtyard gate, Shen Mo swept his arm and sliced through the row of bamboo stakes on the wall ahead, then vaulted over — and at the same time shouted loudly: “Du Lai! Haul the remains!”

The old woman gave chase; the lower half of her body slammed into the earthen wall with a thud. Then she clambered over it like some kind of human spider, at extraordinary speed, and continued pursuing Shen Mo.

Du Lai understood — Shen Mo was creating an opportunity for him.

He sprinted out of the courtyard gate and threw back the straw mat covering the cart.

Beneath the straw mat lay a female corpse.

Roughly sixty years old. Extremely slight and small of frame, all four limbs like dried branches. Long grey-white hair spread loose. A plain white mourning garment clung to her, spotted with fresh, wet mud — as if she had only just died.

The dead woman looked exactly like the zombie-like old woman chasing Shen Mo.

“Du Lai!!!”

Fu Miaoxue, standing in the doorway of the house, suddenly screamed.

Du Lai looked up — the old woman who had been chasing Shen Mo was coming back.

She crawled across the ground with her limbs twisted at unnatural angles, moving at astonishing speed, closing the distance to Du Lai in a blink, her mouth ceaselessly spilling out horrifying laughter.

Du Lai didn’t hesitate. He wrapped the remains in the straw mat, hoisted them onto his shoulder, and ran.

Haul the remains — haul the remains!

The fundamental purpose of hauling remains was burial.

Li Shi cared so deeply about her own remains — those remains had to be the key to solving the game’s puzzle. Perhaps, if the remains were buried, the game would end?

That possibility was high. He had to try.

But Du Lai hadn’t anticipated how fast the old woman was. He’d barely taken two steps before she seized his ankle —

In an instant, the ankle she grabbed felt as though it had been pierced through by shards of ice. Du Lai cried out in pain and stumbled, his face going ashen.

Shen Mo came charging up from behind, snatched the straw mat from the ground and ran.

The Bone-Hauling Woman released Du Lai and turned to chase Shen Mo.

Even the agile Shen Mo was no match for her — she caught up after only a short distance. Unable to dodge in time, he had no choice but to fling down the straw-mat-wrapped remains.

Yet the Bone-Hauling Woman still refused to let them go.

Her maddened laughter echoed through the dark and rainy night. The entire village lay in a dead silence — not a door opened, not a window cracked. Shen Mo and Du Lai had nowhere to hide.

Inside the house, Fu Miaoxue and Bai Youwei were spinning anxiously in circles.

Bai Youwei shouted out into the dark, rain-veiled night: “Run toward the old scholar’s house!”

The whole village had its doors locked tight — only the old scholar’s estate offered shelter. Even if the place had its unsettling paper figures, surely anything was better than this thing that looked like a re-animated corpse.

Fu Miaoxue was on the verge of tears. “Damn it! The old scholar’s house is too far — there’s no time! That zombie is too fast!!!”

*(Note: “Damn it” — 册那 — is a Shanghai dialect expletive with no precise equivalent, similar in usage to “damn” or “what the hell.”)*

Bai Youwei suddenly thought of something and snapped her gaze to Fu Miaoxue. “Quick — quick! That opera piece you sang last time — sing it again, right now!”

—